


Almost Deserving

by Loopie_Lupie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Healing Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn, minor bdsm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loopie_Lupie/pseuds/Loopie_Lupie
Summary: Since being rescued from enslavement and horrific tortures on Iciria, Obi-Wan has taken to going out on late night jaunts. Qui-Gon has done his best to let his former Padawan heal however he must, but when Obi-Wan comes home bruised and bleeding, he realizes that hemustintervene.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi, obi-Wan/many
Comments: 30
Kudos: 68





	1. A Need to Talk

Sitting comfortably on the couch reading, Qui-Gon tapped at the screen to check the time and sighed heavily. Until recently, he only saw three in the morning when on missions where one needed to be conscious at near all times or when there was a ceremony or ritual that demanded such a late night. The last few weeks, it had become his usual to end up sitting up most the night, at times even until the sun rose in the morning, waiting on his former Padawan to come home. 

Obi-Wan had been moved back into his old Padawan room when released from the healers after his cursed mission to Iciria out in the outer rim. The healers had told him the damage done to the young Knight when he had been held captive until Quinlan Vos had found and rescued him. What he hadn’t originally been prepared for was the change in the redhead’s personality. 

The depression and anxiety had been understandable to him, expected even, but when the young man had started taking off for hours at a time and coming home reeking of sex, he’d had to go speak with the healers again. They’d told him to be patient with Obi-Wan, to offer him support and just encourage him to be safe. All of the psychological babble hadn’t completely made sense to Qui-Gon, but he’d understood enough to know that trying to keep the Knight at home wouldn’t do any good. In fact, Liara had said that it might even make things worse since he’d been held captive and it could cause flashbacks to be stuck inside their quarters.

So, the Jedi Master had decided that instead of forcing the young man to stay home, he’d make sure he was awake whatever time it was when Obi-Wan got home so that he could be sure he was safe. And he had started to question if Obi-Wan were being safe with the way he’d walked the last few times he’d gone out so late. The brunet had decided that if Obi-Wan came home in any worse shape, that he’d have to confront his former Padawan about it. Going out for sex was one thing; going out and getting hurt was absolutely another.

He made it through another couple of chapters before the door to their quarters finally slid open, allowing Obi-Wan to stumble inside. Qui-Gon’s holopad was dropped carelessly to the couch and he was on his feet but a couple heartbeats later. The brunet was careful not to let himself rush the redhead, but he still moved close, not quite touching him since Obi-Wan had found the wall to lean against.

This time, it wasn’t just sex that could be smelled on the young man but alcohol wafted up with each heavy breath the redhead gave. Frowning slightly, it took Qui-Gon a moment to remember Liara’s suggestion that he try to avoid being judgmental of Obi-Wan. He had to put more effort than he would have previously expected to school his features into a careful neutral as he slowly moved one hand forward, making sure that Obi-Wan could see it coming, to curl a finger under the redhead’s jaw and tip his head up so he could see the damage in the light.

“Obi-Wan, are you okay?” There was a bit of a haze in the redhead’s eyes that said he hadn’t used the Force to clear the alcohol from his system; he was purposefully drunk.

“Mmhmm…” Obi-Wan hummed lightly, but it was the way he tried to smile that disrtubed the forming scab, letting a thin trickle of blood dribble down his chin.

It was only years of working on the random political assignment that allowed him to keep his worry from his face. Though he couldn’t stop the soft shake of his head, absolutely disagreeing with the redhead’s self assessment. There was no way the young Knight was okay when he was not only drunk, but bleeding as well.

“Come on, Obi-Wan, let’s go sit on the couch…” His free hand lifted to gently grasp the redhead’s upper arm, and when he’d moved without making sure Obi-Wan could see, the younger man barely flinched.

“‘M tired…” Those words came out faintly slurred and Qui-Gon had to fight not to sigh even as he gently tugged at Obi-Wan.

“Couch, so I can clean up your face. Then you can go to bed, okay?” 

It worried Qui-Gon to a degree that the redhead nodded so easily and didn’t argue about being led towards the couch. He hoped that the willingness to give in so easily had to do with it being Qui-Gon that was making the request of Obi-Wan. But there was a large part of him that feared it had more to do with the alcohol and whatever it was that the redhead went out looking for on these nights.

Turning Obi-Wan to get the younger man settled on the couch, his eyes widened slightly when he spotted the bruise already blooming on that pale cheek. His self control was definitely getting a test at the moment as he had to swallow down the anger that swelled within him over the fact someone had struck his Padawan. Liara had warned him that anger, especially in moments like this when he was feeling weak or unbalanced, could be dangerous, causing what little progress they’d made to be destroyed and leave him as he’d been when he first got back from Iciria. And Qui-Gon would do anything to keep from pushing Obi-Wan back into the scared shell of a man he’d been when the healers first released him to the brunet’s care.

One hand lifted to cup Obi-Wan’s bruised cheek and he worried about the way the redhead leaned into the touch rather than flinching away, almost nuzzling into the touch. At the same time, he could nearly feel his heart break with how hungry for touch the younger man seemed to be. Partially because it had apparently taken alcohol for his Padawan to relax enough to actually be able to seek the physical contact he wanted.

Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled upon the Force, encouraging it to flow through the younger man, the bruise paling out under his touch and the split in Obi-Wan’s lip sealing up. He didn’t completely heal all the damage as he normally would have, wanting there to be some marks left behind in the morning so that he could use it as reference to confront Obi-Wan when he was sober. This way, his Padawan wouldn’t be in much pain, but also couldn’t deny that anything had happened.

When he deemed his sweet Padawan healed enough, he moved just far enough to grab a tissue off the caf table to dab at the red on Obi-Wan’s jaw. Once the younger man’s skin was clear of blood, he rolled the tissue into a ball and set it on the table before returning his attention to the nearly asleep redhead. Honestly, there was something still quite adorable about the young Knight’s face relaxed against the back of the couch, head lolling over as his breathing started to even out.

“Obi-Wan, time for bed. I told you, once I got your face clean we’d get you to bed, so come on.” He spoke gently as he stood up, taking the redhead’s hand and tugging lightly.

Once again, the redhead followed the silent directions easily, sitting forward and working on getting his legs under him. Though, he still stumbled into Qui-Gon’s chest, giggling softly in a way that showed the brunet just how drunk he was. That was definitely going to have to stop. He wouldn’t let Obi-Wan be hurt again. 

Self originated or not.

One arm looped carefully around the young man, Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan to his room. He knew that the redhead had never been fond of wearing his day clothes to bed, but he also didn’t have it in him to help the young man into pajamas when he couldn’t actually consent to such a thing. Qui-Gon refused to ever break the other’s trust like that. 

So instead, he helped get him under the covers after tugging off his boots. One night sleeping in day clothes wouldn’t hurt Obi-Wan any; he’d need a shower in the morning anyways. Which meant that once he’d tucked his former Padawan into bed, he flicked off the light and went back into the main room of their quarters. A cup of sapir and another chapter of his book should be enough to relax him so that sleep would be a possibility instead of the worry he had for Obi-Wan keeping him up all night.

He had intended to make it back to his room to stretch out and get a good night's sleep. However, Qui-Gon had instead managed to pass out, his tea cup thankfully on the caf table and his holopad resting on his chest. It wasn't the worst place he'd ever slept, not even close, but the angle he'd been sitting in when he passed out wasn't exactly the best position for any human body. Which explained the groan he gave when he woke up, sitting up slowly and stretching to relieve some of the ache from sleeping with his back and neck bent in write angles.

The brunet knew Obi-Wan wouldn't be up for a little while still, it was barely light outside. If he could go back to sleep, he would. However, the tall man had learned many years back that once he woke up, there was no going back to sleep for at least a couple hours. So instead, he checked his holopad for messages. There were a couple friendly messages from other Master's, and a less friendly rant from Mace over 'This troublesome Chosen One you sent me' as Qui-Gon had come to expect in the last couple months. Replies were easy enough and once that was dealt with, he decided that he ought get up and make some tea and breakfast for himself and Obi-Wan. 

He had just poured the water in over the tea leaves in the pot when he heard Obi-Wan's door slide open. Looking over his shoulder, he offered a slight smile for his old Padawan as he placed the lid on the pot.

"Good morning, did you sleep okay?" Qui-Gon certainly hoped the young man had at least gotten that much out of the drinking and whatever else had happened.

Pausing on his way to the 'fresher, Obi-Wan blinked a couple times at the older man before shrugging. "Got a few hours."

Considering that was all _either_ of them had gotten, the brunet gave a simple nod of acceptance that seemed to give Obi-Wan the permission he'd been waiting for to slip into the 'fresher. Sighing softly, the Jedi Master set about plating up their meals. The redhead took longer in the 'fresher these days, but Qui-Gon couldn't exactly fault him for it at the moment since the young man had been forced to sleep in clothes that reeked of sex and alcohol the night before. Even the brunet would have spent a little more time cleaning up after waking up in that state.

By the time the young Knight emerged, hair hanging damply around his face, Qui-Gon had gotten the table set and was sitting there waiting. Though a slight narrowing of his eyes thankfully stopped Obi-Wan's apology in its tracks as it had when he was a Padawan. Perhaps the healers had a point about him being a trusted person who could give some form of familiarity to the younger Jedi as he recovered mentally from his time on Iciria. At the very least, Obi-Wan seemed to trust that he was safe in his old Master's presence. 

"Come eat." Qui-Gon spoke gently as he picked up his own fork and started on his meal.

With a subtle nod, the redhead made his way over to the table and sat down to eat as well. Which was when Qui-Gon noticed that Obi-Wan hadn’t bothered to heal the remnants of his bruise. He was glad that their training bond had been broken as he didn’t know how Obi-Wan would have reacted to the worry that rushed through him. There was a possibility that the redhead hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror, though the lack of stubble suggested that wasn’t it. However, Qui-Gon worried that he’d left the bruise as some kind of twisted reminder of what had happened to him the night before, if he could even remember with how drunk he’d been when he got home.

The brunet was absolutely determined to have a discussion with his former Padawan now. He needed to make sure that Obi-Wan was safe, that no more harm would come to him now that he was safely back on Coruscant. Now he just had to figure out how to do so. 

What he did know for certain was that he wasn’t going to risk upsetting his former Padawan until he’d eaten a decent breakfast. Silence filled the room around them, and while it was somewhat strained on Qui-Gon’s side, he doubted it was at all uncomfortable for Obi-Wan as many times as they’d eaten in quiet together before during his time as a Padawan. At the very least, the redhead didn’t look bothered as he picked at his food slowly. The brunet had finished his meal quite a few minutes before Obi-Wan did, but he simply poured himself another cup of the Sapir to pass the time, sipping lightly at it as he made himself look out the window at the cityscape beyond. Even if he’d have much rather have watched the young Knight instead.

When Obi-Wan finally finished eating, he gathered both of their plates and utensils and took them to the sink. Though, before he could start washing them, Qui-Gon was speaking.

“The dishes can wait, I’d like to talk to you for a moment, if that’s okay.” Qui-Gon spoke as he stood, taking his cup and the half pot of tea along with him on the way to the couch.

Setting the dishes in the sink, Obi-Wan was frowning slightly as he turned to look at the older man. “It’ll only take me a few moments to do them.”

Sighing softly as he set the pot on the caf table, the brunet supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by his former Padawan’s preference to deal with their dishes first. While not a clean freak, especially not out in the field, the redhead had always made it a point to get dishes done right away after meals after the time Qui-Gon had gotten after him for forgetting to do them shortly after becoming his Padawan. Nodding to the younger man, he shifted about to make himself comfortable against the corner of the couch, making sure that he would be able to comfortably look at Obi-Wan whenever he finished the dishes.

He sipped at his tea as he waited. Thanks to the size of the cup and it having been over half gone already from his time waiting on Obi-Wan to finish eating, the tea lasted only until the facet turned off. Qui-Gon leaned forward to pour himself another cup, smiling at the young man as Obi-Wan finally headed over to join him. His smile only grew when the Knight snagged his own empty cup on his way over to the couch. 

Obi-Wan held the cup out to Qui-Gon, giving a slight smile of his own when the older man filled his cup. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The brunet set down the pot as Obi-Wan sat down next to him.

While Qui-Gon had settled himself at a bit of an angle in the corner, Obi-Wan had sat down with one leg bent up under himself so that he could directly face the older man. Sipping at his tea, Qui-Gon gathered his thoughts quickly and prayed this didn’t go as badly as he feared it just might.

“I want to start this by saying that I am not judging you, Obi-Wan,” The tension that took root in the redhead’s body was very obvious and Qui-Gon prayed that this all worked. “I just want to understand.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, shoulders tight as he sat there and those green eyes dropped to the tea cup he held. “Understand what?”

“Why do you go out at night?” Without thinking, Qui-Gon lifted his free hand to brush against the faint bruise on Obi-Wan’s cheek.“Why do you let _this_ happen?”

“That wasn’t-...I didn’t-...it was my fault…” The redhead’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment even as he tucked his head, pulling away from the touch slightly.

His hand dropped away the moment Obi-Wan pulled away from the touch. “I just want to understand, Obi-Wan. I know you go out and find... _partners_. But I don’t understand why. Or why you would end up hurt like this.”

Obi-Wan drew in a shaky breath, the sound making Qui-Gon almost wish he could take back the question. “I told him no. I shouldn’t have.”

Blue eyes widened at those words and anger burned white hot through him at the idea that someone had struck Obi-Wan simply for saying no. Whoever it was seemed to be extremely lucky as the redhead hadn’t dropped a name; Qui-Gon knew he would have made whoever it was pay if he had been able to track them down. Swallowing back down the anger, he forced himself to stay neutral.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon paused, waiting for his former Padawan to raise his head and look him in the eye. “You are allowed to say no whenever, and for _whatever_ , reason. No matter what.” 

Green eyes moistened slightly and Obi-Wan’s breath caught, a near sob passing his lips and he ducked his head again. “It was supposed to help.”

The tremor in the redhead’s voice broke Qui-Gon’s heart in a way that he hadn’t quite expected, but he pushed through the ache in his chest. “What was supposed to help?”

“I was reading on the ‘net about ways to…” Trailing off, Obi-Wan frowned at his cup slightly and Qui-Gon did his best to wait patiently. “...to cope. Found several people who suggested replacing the bad memories with good ones.”

“So you’re letting random people…” Qui-Gon trailed off, not sure what words to use for what his former Padawan was doing.

“Why not?” His voice hardened suddenly, a sardonic note taking root in his words, as he continued to stare at his tea without drinking it. “It was a stranger that used me on Iciria, makes sense to let a stranger do it here when I tell them they can.”

Qui-Gon considered Obi-Wan’s words for a long moment, giving a subtle nod as he realized that the logic did make sense of a sort. “I can understand that line of thought. But what about last night? Did you tell him he could hit you?”

The redhead’s shoulders curled forward a bit, almost as if he wanted to curl into a ball as he had when he was upset as a child. “I wanted to stop, he didn’t. I shouldn’t have said no.”

Another flash of anger rolled through Qui-Gon at the almost timid response that his former Padawan had given. He’d been so happy to see Obi-Wan slowly coming out of his shell again, becoming the Knight that knew his worth and willing to speak for himself again. And this was a clear step, if not four or five, back from what progress the younger man had made and Qui-Gon hated whoever it was that had felt a need to break the redhead like this again. If he ever learned who it was, he would see them suffer for hurting the sweet young man who meant more to the Jedi Master than he could ever admit to anyone.

He had to swallow back that fury and try to collect his self control enough to speak calmly, not wanting to make this any harder on Obi-Wan than it already was. “Obi-Wan, listen to me. You have _every_ right in the universe to say no at any time. I don’t care what they want. You are the _only_ one who has the right to your body.”

With Obi-Wan’s head tucked to the point his chin was nearly pressing to his chest, the shake in his shoulders was the first visible sign of his crying. “But-”

“There are no buts, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s voice was firm in a way he couldn’t help as he spoke even if a tiny part of him worried would make things worse. “Only _you_ get to decide what you do or don’t do.”

“I gave them permission...I said okay, I can’t expect them to just stop-” Obi-Wan’s voice was shaky as his shoulders curled in a bit more, hunching him around his teacup where he held it in both hands.

“Yes you can. If they don’t stop when you tell them to, they are no better than those bastards on Iciria.” Qui-Gon’s voice was sharp and it took all his effort to not reach out to the young man when he just wanted to pull Obi-Wan close and make him feel better in any way he could. Alas, he knew that the redhead didn’t take well to unexpected touches any longer. “They have no rights to your body, whether you first gave permission or not. The moment you told him to stop, then he is the one in the wrong, not you.”

Obi-Wan gave a soft whimpering sob. “He wasn’t like them...he tried to be gentle. He-”

“Still hit you for saying no.” Qui-Gon reached out slowly, carefully setting one hand on Obi-Wan’s bent knee as he set his tea down. “You did _nothing_ wrong, Obi-Wan.”

The redhead seemed to be trying to suppress his crying if the choked sound to them was anything to go by. And when a tremble started in his arms, Qui-Gon carefully took his cup from him. Crying was a good emotional release at times and by the Force he hoped this was one of those cathartic moments. He gave the young man time to cry, gently squeezing at his knee just in a show of comfort and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It took quite some time, but eventually the other’s sobs softened and stopped. Though Obi-Wan’s voice was still quite shaky when he spoke.

“It was supposed to help.”

Qui-Gon’s heart broke all over again and he had to take a couple moments to center himself before he dared to speak, though his voice was gentle, tender, when he spoke. “Pretending that last night didn’t happen, was it helping to go out and find someone for the night?”

Obi-Wan chewed on his lower lip for a long moment before nodded slowly. “I finally got more than an hour of sleep before the dreams started…”

“Then I think it is helping.” As much as Qui-Gon didn’t really like Obi-Wan going out and sleeping around. “But,” The way Obi-Wan’s shoulders stiffened wasn’t terribly surprising, but it was saddening all the same. “I think you might want to find a safety measure to be sure you don’t end up treated badly again.”

A sharp snort from the younger man surprised Qui-Gon. “If they won’t listen to me, what would they listen to?”

The simple fact that he would never even dream of ignoring someone if they told him to stop no matter what state of intimacy they might be involved in gave him a few moments of pause. He had to try to think of an answer and found he really didn’t have one.

“You could stop them if you wanted to.” Use of the Force when protecting oneself was definitely an acceptable use in his mind.

“Not when I’m bound.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a mere whisper, the words just barely reaching Qui-Gon’s ears.

“Bound?” From what he’d heard from the healers, and the remnants of the bruising around his wrists the first time he’d gone to see him in the healing ward, it didn’t quite add up in his mind.

“It happened on Iciria. So I do it here, so I can replace the bad with...better.” Obi-Wan’s voice was still soft, his hands resting limply curled together in his lap.

Qui-Gon supposed that made sense in a way and he gave a gentle nod. “Alright, so if you can’t guarantee your own safety, why not take someone with you?”

“The only one that they would listen to would be someone they believed had control of me. And I don’t have a dom. I don’t trust any of them enough to see them a second time, let alone let them _control_ me…” 

That definitely made sense, but Qui-Gon knew there had to be a solution to this. Someone that Obi-Wan trusted, someone who could give the image of being in control of the redhead, but who would give him all the freedom he needed to heal….There had to be someone that fit all of those categories. And after several long moments, he finally came up with an idea.

“Let me.”


	2. Limits

The Knight’s head snapped up, green eyes wide in shock and the single word coming out on a croak. “What?”

“I was your Master for years, I trust you implicitly, and as far as I know, you trust me, yes?” A slow nod from the redhead and Qui-Gon smiled softly. “I can convince others that I am in charge while never going against your wishes or breaking your trust. So let me play the role for your safety.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and there was some strange hesitancy in the redhead’s gaze as he looked at Qui-Gon. “I’ve only let strangers-”

“I don’t plan to touch you, Obi-Wan. That is not the role I am suggesting I take on.” Qui-Gon gently squeezed the redhead’s knee again. “I will be there to ensure your safety and nothing else.”

There was a strange mix of emotions that Qui-Gon couldn’t quite identify in the redhead’s gaze before he ducked his head again. “I don’t want you to judge me….”

“I’m not.” Qui-Gon gently squeezed his former Padawan’s knee again, wanting to drive home the fact he wasn’t going anywhere either.

“You haven’t seen me when I’m with...them…” Qui-Gon hated how uncertain the younger man sounded and wished he knew how to help it.

“Seeing you with them isn’t going to change anything, Obi-Wan.” The brunet knew for certain that there was no way he could possibly think any less of the redhead over whatever he was doing to help himself heal from his assault. “I just want you safe, and if me sitting in the room and watching will ensure that, then I am more than willing to do so.”

“I let them do...so much….” Obi-Wan’s timidness was still quite clear as he spoke.

“And if they try to go past what you are willing to allow, I will stop them. No matter what.” His affection for Obi-Wan and his desire to help him heal would ensure that.

“I don’t have that many limits…” His voice still shook, but it was also clear that he was trying to give a warning of sorts with his comment.

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure that he was entirely prepared for where this conversation was going, but he was committed to it all the same. “Tell me what limits you do have and I promise you that they will not be breached.”

“I-” Obi-Wan broke off, arms crossing across himself now that he didn’t have a cup in his hands. He was silent long enough that Qui-Gon nearly prompted him before he saw a pink flash of tongue moistening dry lips so he could speak again. “I don’t want to be hurt. I just need...I need to be tied up. Need to replace that…”

The way the redhead broke off again hurt Qui-Gon, making him hate that he couldn’t just fix all of this for the younger man, and he squeezed the other’s knee again gently. “Replace the bad with better?”

Parroting his former Padawan’s words seemed the best idea at the moment. If it was a phrase that Obi-Wan was comfortable using, then it made since he would be okay with hearing it. And the slow nod from the redhead told Qui-Gon he had guessed right for the moment.

“Yes. And I let them…” His cheeks bloomed bright pink and Qui-Gon wished that his Padawan would relax; he wasn’t judging the young man in any way. “H-have me…”

“Makes sense.” The brunet’s voice was calm and steady as he spoke truthfully, understanding why Obi-Wan would put himself in that kind of position.

At least he understood it intellectually. Personally he couldn’t imagine putting himself in such a vulnerable position after being forced into a similar position and hurt in that moment. Honestly, even when he’d been younger and let himself be dragged along with the other Padawans to clubs that catered to those who played similar games as Obi-wan was, he’d never been able to let himself be controlled. The idea of doing it after being _forced_ to submit made him nauseous. But if it helped Obi-Wan, then he would support the younger man however he could. And at least like this, he would be able to keep the redhead safe if nothing else.

“If you aren’t comfortable with things you need to tell me, or they’ll see you’re not actually my dom.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a soft whisper again, his fingers curling around his elbows in a mock hug for himself.

Oh how Qui-Gon wished he could gather the younger man close and give him an actual hug but he also knew that wouldn’t do them any good at the moment. “I’d rather you weren’t intoxicated.”

One’s ability to consent was very important.

“I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” The redhead’s voice sounded somewhat wet, as if those rough sobs from earlier were trying to rise in his throat once again.

“Can you explain to me why?” Qui-Gon stroked his thumb lightly against the inside of Obi-Wan’s knee tenderly, trying to encourage him to trust in his old Master still and to believe that there was no judgement on his side.

“If I’m completely sober I...I can’t. I uh…” He stopped, swallowing thickly before he continued speaking, voice still shaky. “I got sick the first time I tried...the moment he started taking off my clothes I-”

“Okay,” Qui-Gon wasn’t fond of the idea that Obi-Wan was forcing himself to go through with this, but at the same time maybe he was projecting his own thoughts onto the young man and he was simply needing that hint of extra liquid courage. “Then I will ask this of you, only alcohol.”

“I can do that.” Obi-Wan lifted his head a bit, lips twitching towards a faint smile as he finally looked at Qui-Gon for a moment.

“Thank you.” He smiled in return at the younger man, wishing that there was more he could do for his former Padawan. “I would like to suggest that we come back to revisit the negotiations if anything happens that either of us aren’t comfortable with, is that agreeable?”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, but it was the slight tension that took to the redhead’s shoulders again that worried him. He didn’t plan to back out of this, no matter what happened. But if something happened, he wanted to be sure they both knew they could open up a dialogue. Not because he worried that he would need to put any other boundaries on the young man, after all this was for Obi-Wan to heal not for Qui-Gon in any way, but because he feared he might say or do something that upset his former Padawan.

“That means if I do anything you’re not okay with, you say something, okay, Obi-Wan? I will not be upset. I am doing this so you can safely go out and get what you need to heal. You just have to tell me if I accidentally cross any boundaries you didn’t know you had.” Qui-Gon squeezed at Obi-Wan’s knee again, hoping that the redhead was taking his words to heart for he meant every single one of them.

Again, Obi-Wan nodded silently, but this time that tension seemed to fade some which was a relief. Which meant that there was only one thing left for them to discuss for the time being.

“What is your safeword, Obi-Wan?”

Russet brows drew together and the young man frowned slightly. “Safeword?”

Qui-Gon’s throat and chest felt suddenly tight at the young man’s words and it took nearly all his self control to keep that distress from showing on his face. His poor Padawan had gotten himself into this sort of play without even knowing the basics of what he was doing and that scared the Jedi Master. The bruise and split lip that Obi-Wan had come home with could have been so very much worse and as much as he hated the man who’d raised a hand against his Padawan, he still found himself thanking the Force that it hadn’t been any worse.

Swallowing thickly, he drew in a slow deep breath and made himself release his fear and anger to the Force so that he could deal with this calmly. No one would be allowed to touch Obi-Wan again without knowing his safeword and they would never be allowed to ignore it. No matter what it might cost him, whatever he might have to sit through, he would make sure that the young man was never hurt again.

“A safeword is a word that tells your partner to stop everything right then.” Qui-Gon could see the surprise in Obi-Wan’s eyes when he spoke so easily on a topic that he was sure the redhead didn’t expect him to know about.

Then again, very few knew that he had ever dabbled in such styles of play. It hadn’t suited him to play occasionally. He just hadn’t been able to actually muster up interest in anyone that he didn’t know, and playing such an intense game with someone he knew was dangerous and risked breaking the Code he had sworn to follow. Even this was likely to be dangerous for him, but he hoped that being allowed to do nothing but watch and keep Obi-Wan safe would be enough to keep him from breaking the Code any further than he already had by simply being unable to give up on his connection to Obi-Wan after his Padawan was Knighted.

“What’s the point?” 

That question made it feel as if something were trying to crush the air out of Qui-Gon’s lungs and it took him a moment to figure out some kind of response. “It tells them to stop, Obi-Wan.”

“I told him to stop last night, it didn’t do anything!” There was a sharpness in Obi-Wan’s voice that broke Qui-Gon’s heart, the distress much too clear in his tone.

“That is why I will be with you, Obi-Wan,” Again his thumb stroked tenderly over the inside of the redhead’s knee, though Qui-Gon hadn’t intended to move at all. “I will enforce it should you decide to use your safewords.”

“...Words? Plural?” Green eyes looked up at him, confusion clear in them but also a willingness to trust in Qui-Gon’s ability to protect him.

“Yes, I suggest we use a traffic light system for now. It allows me to check in with you, and is simple enough that they can’t claim they forgot.” He could see the confusion grow in the redhead’s gaze and he smiled comfortingly. “The colors tell me where you are and let me check in with you without having to ask more than what color you’re at.”

“How?” 

“Green means you’re doing good, everything that is happening is what you want. Yellow tells me that you need things to slow down, or maybe we need to discuss what’s going to happen next. Red means everything stops, right then and there, no questions, no hesitation.” Qui-Gon could see the younger man working on processing his words, taking the time to think through this new information.

“And what does you checking in with me look like?” 

“Me sitting in a chair and watching and just asking you for a color.” 

He knew there was some hesitancy on Obi-Wan’s side, and he couldn’t really blame him. After all, if he’d needed to ask someone to sit in on him having sex with someone, he’d be worried about being judged too. Eventually Qui-Gon would be able to convince Obi-Wan that he was only there because he cared about the young Knight’s safety and that nothing else mattered to him. 

Obi-Wan drew in a slow deep breath and nodded slowly. “I think I can handle that.”

**********

The rest of the day went by in more of a blur than it should have, but Obi-Wan just hadn’t been able to pull himself out of his own head enough to really focus on what was happening. Even when sparring with Qui-Gon, he’d struggled to stay aware enough to not screw up badly. His Master had tried to tell him to focus, but as much as he usually tried to please the older man, he just didn’t have it in him at the moment.

He’d agreed to letting Qui-Gon sit in on his nightly escapades, it had made sense in the moment, but, as he’d started to realize, he _sucked_ at making in the moment decisions. It was for that reason he had a need for his Master to come along, to keep him safe when he couldn’t do it himself. Of all the ways he could have found to heal, of course it was the one that put him in the most danger as well. 

And while he would absolutely _claim_ that it was a nervousness over being watched by someone, the truth was that his nervousness was because it was _Qui-Gon_ who was going to be watching him have sex with whatever stranger he found didn’t bother him too much. Anyone else, he could have handled, just ignored their presence unless he was in danger. But his Master? How did he ignore that?

Qui-Gon was the only person he’d ever broken the code for. Not that he’d meant to. That had never been the plan. When he’d first crushed on his Master, Bant had laughed at him and told him that almost every Padawan crushed on their Masters for a while. But as much as he’d prayed it would go away, as much as he’d tried to will it away, to push those horrible _feelings_ off to the Force, they just wouldn’t go away.

No matter what he’d tried, he just couldn’t get over his attachment to his Master. 

Eventually he had accepted that he would forever have feelings for his Master, that he would never truly be faithful to the Code he had sworn himself to. As silly as it was, he’d found a way to keep himself from breaking the Code further by telling himself that he was saving himself for his Master. That no one would ever touch him besides the massive man who had claimed his heart so long ago. 

Then Iciria happened…

Now...Now he was tainted. Used by strangers that held not even an inkling of fondness for him. He no longer had any right to even dream of his beloved Master. At least the nightmares had kept him in line that much. 

But now…

Now Qui-Gon was going to be there while he gave his body to someone else. While he tried to stop the nightmares for just a few extra hours so that he could at least semi-function the next day. How could he let Qui-Gon see him used like that? To be nothing but an instrument of pleasure for someone else? 

He was tainted, dirty no matter how bloody he had scrubbed himself in the showers over and over again. And here he was, bringing his beloved Master into his disgusting version of coping. He could never recover from that...and maybe it was for the best. If Qui-Gon saw him like that, he would never, _could never_ , want him after that. Perhaps that might be enough to make him stop wishing for the older man’s touch finally? Nothing else had worked as of yet, so he might as well cling to the hope that this might finally break his obsession with his Master.

If for no other reason than because he couldn’t drag Qui-Gon down to his level and he could never again hope to raise to meet his Master.

Even through dinner he was all but silent, eating quickly and drinking his tea before slinking off to his room. If he wished for sleep, then he had to go out. Which meant he ought ready himself for the night. The clothes he dug out were technically one of the few sets he had for undercover missions, but they worked well enough for what he was doing at the moment. After all, it was bad enough that he was going out like this without presenting himself as a Jedi to those who he allowed to use him. He would not allow them to look upon his comrades in such a way.

Snagging a bottle of lube along with his clothes, he made his way to the ‘fresher, cheeks slightly red when he suggested that Qui-Gon wear something other than his Jedi robes to go out for the night. While he hoped the older man took his advice, he also didn’t know that he could push the issue. Or even try to explain himself and why he was so bothered by it. So he focused instead on himself for the moment.

Stripping down, he slipped into the shower with the bottle of slick in hand. He had learned early in his excursions that not everyone had the patience for him that he would have preferred, so he didn’t leave it up to chance anymore. As he’d told Qui-Gon, he wasn’t looking for pain with this. He wanted to replace the bad with good, not compound the trauma.

His prep was methodical but quick and he focused on breathing past the water pounding down over his face to keep himself grounded in the here and now. Perhaps by now it wasn’t a necessity, but he wasn’t willing to risk that possibility yet. Once he deemed his body ready enough for whatever might happen when he finally picked someone for the night, he quickly soaped up and rinsed off. His hair had been washed that morning so he didn’t bother with that. All he’d really cared about was getting the sweat from training off his skin so he wouldn’t smell bad.

Dressing in the snug black faux-leather pants and the simple white silken top he’d picked out, Obi-Wan scrubbed at the damp hair near his face before gently finger combing it into place. Once upon a time, he would have just borrowed Qui-Gon’s brush to style his hair. These days, he did all he could to make sure he didn’t use his old Master’s things. 

He had no right to it any longer.

Shaking himself from the melancholy that had tried to settle over him as he looked at the brush sitting beside the sink, Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and steeled himself for however this night might go. If he were in too low of a mood he wasn’t sure that Qui-Gon would let him go out tonight but he knew he needed it. Needed to get out of his head for a little while, needed to feel...okay for just a little bit. Then maybe he could get a few hours of sleep and then face his Master without completely breaking down.

Obi-Wan stepped out into the main room of their quarters and glanced around. How exactly he’d ended up back in his Padawan room he wasn’t sure but hadn’t found the courage to ask yet; if only because he feared the council had pushed this on Qui-Gon and he couldn’t handle if his Master didn’t actually want him around. 

He didn’t see Qui-Gon and he hoped that meant the older man was changing. Moving to sit on the couch, he settled in to wait, resisting the urge to just head out on his own as he had so many nights before. Alas, he’d given his word that he would let his old Master sit in on him tonight, that he wouldn’t be _unsafe_ about letting _some stranger_ _have him_.

Looking up with the door to Qui-Gon’s room wooshed open, Obi-Wan felt his breath catch and desire sparked within him before he could tamp it down. Guilt flooded him but a moment later and he swallowed thickly, doing all he could to resist looking away from the older man when it was all he wanted to do. However, that would give away that there was something wrong and he couldn’t explain that it was because he wanted what he had no right to.

Instead, he made himself look over the older man, nodding at the elegant outfit his Master wore. It had been a gift on their last mission to Alderaan before Obi-Wan was Knighted when they’d been conscripted into attending a wedding of some Lord. They had seen to it that the outfit was tailored to Qui-Gon’s body, the top hugging tightly to the brunet’s chest and upper arms before the sleeves flared just a little bit around the forearm and wrist. The pants were equally well tailored, hugging his form enticingly in a way that Obi-Wan had adored back then. Now it was torture to look at.

But what made it most beautiful of all, was the way that the seemingly black material caught the light just at the edges of the V cut collar, shimmering it’s true midnight blue and making the deep sapphire of Qui-Gon’s eyes stand out starkly. Hair hanging loose around his shoulders, save for a couple small braids trailing back from his temples to make sure the hair didn’t end up in his eyes, Qui-Gon was an absolute vision and suddenly, Obi-Wan didn’t worry about whether the brunet would stand out. For he would definitely be noticed, but only as the absolutely breathtaking specimen of a man that he was, not for his place among the Order.

Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan stood up hesitantly. “Should we go?”

“Soon.” The low voice held a hint of uncertainty that worried Obi-Wan.

“You don’t have to come with me. I can-”

“Obi-Wan, I am going with you. But I have something small to discuss first…” Qui-Gon stepped more fully into the main room, coming to stand but a couple feet before the redhead.

Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon silently, unsure what to think right now. He was confused by this entire day, was struggling to function past the myriad of emotions swirling within him that built again moments after he released them to the Force. The older man stared down into his eyes for a long moment before he lifted one hand, a simple silver chain with a simple silver charm held carefully, gently, between his fingers.

“It has been a long time since I played this role,” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but blink at his Master in shock that he had actually played this sort of game before; he’d assumed Qui-Gon knew so much from the multitude of books he’d read. “But in my experience a collar can help one seem to be in control.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, hesitantly. It would help make sure he looked as if he truly did belong to Qui-Gon, but could he actually bear to be marked by Qui-Gon? To wear the man’s collar? If he had no right to borrow a brush, how could he borrow a _collar_ of all things? Even if it were but a necklace, the meaning, stated by Qui-Gon himself, was clear all the same.

“I understand if you’re not comfortable with it,” Qui-Gon’s free hand lifted to settle slowly, carefully, on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I just thought it might lend some credence to my role when I’m just watching.”

Heart pounding, chest tight, stomach rolling so hard he feared he might actually lose his dinner, Obi-Wan nodded slowly, managing to just barely whisper, “Okay.”

His Master’s hand left his shoulder, moving to reach slightly behind him as the other hand lifted the collar. Obi-Wan tipped his head up to bare his throat, giving room for that simple chain to be looped around his neck. Qui-Gon clasped it quickly and let the cool metal fall against the redhead’s skin, the charm sitting but a few centimeters below his collarbones.

“Are you okay?” Qui-Gon spoke tenderly and that hurt Obi-Wan more than he could say, but still he nodded.

“We should get going…”


End file.
